


trade meat

by occasionallynotsafe



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Non-Consensual, tiny bit of InuMir (that's only hinted at)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionallynotsafe/pseuds/occasionallynotsafe
Summary: Captured by a bunch of humans at the worst possible time, Miroku offers himself





	trade meat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iinoyb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iinoyb/gifts).



> the girlfriend asks, and i comply
> 
>  
> 
> titles are. hard

This is his fault.

The thought sits heavy in his gut; he feels sick with guilt, self-loathing, and the worst part of it is that Inuyasha _knows_ the thought is true.

All of this could have so _easily_ been avoided- if he had been more careful, if he had been more wary.

If he had remembered what day it was.

They have him chained up in a corner, metal links and ropes that, normally, he’d have no problems with- but his hair is black and he’s _weak_ , and there’s blood in his mouth, a headache sitting heavy in his head.

He’s not alone.

That’s probably the worst part- if it had been just _him_ , chained up and kept, it would have been no big. But Miroku is sprawled out on the floor, blood sticky in his hair, and Inuyasha hasn’t dared to speak since he woke up, fear making his throat tight and unyielding.

He can’t smell the air. He can’t hear the whispering, or the plotting, and he doesn’t know _shit_ , except that he’s chained up tight, and Miroku is still right there, on the ground, the only sign he’s even captured the blood in his hair and the heavy ropes around his hands.

They’ve got his arms bound together- real tight too, and Inuyasha would worry about that if it weren’t for the fact that they’ve got _other_ things to worry about. Like the group of humans, whispering to each other in the room over, and the heavy feel of the air, settled on his shoulder like weights.

He’s not scared.

He’s not scared because he _can’t be_ \- he’s not allowed to be scared, and so he _isn’t_ , but it’s something close to it- something that has his chest tight and his heart hammering, and Inuyasha wishes he had done _more_.

Miroku groans- it’s a rough noise, and Inuyasha startles, swivels his vision to look directly at Miroku. He’s stirring, slow and unsteady, and Inuyasha bites at the inside of his cheek, flares his nostrils so as to keep himself from shouting.

He doesn’t want to alert humans- he wants to delay this as much as possible, because they just have to last the night. Just has to last till the day breaks anew, and then he can get them _out_ of here, and it’ll be fine- bruises and new scars, and it’ll be _fine_ , it _will_.

“Wha-” Miroku’s voice is slurred, wobbly, and Inuyasha can’t help the hissed _Miroku_ that slips past his lips, or the way he leans forward in his chains.

It makes them clink, of course, a symphony of noise that makes his breath hitch, his eyes go wide- Miroku meets his eyes, and there’s blood drying along the left of his eyebrow, a smear of red-brown Inuyasha wishes he could wipe away.

Miroku looks, for a fleeting second, _scared_.

“You’re awake.”

Inuyasha twists, snarls- there’s a furious roaring in his chest, like his bones are shaking and his blood is hissing, and he can feel his claws beneath his skin, can feel his teeth prick at his gums.

The human doesn’t even flinch.

His face is blank and unmoving, and he spares Inuyasha nothing more than a fleeting glance- looks over at Miroku, whose face is devoid of any emotions, and hums.

“I’d thought you would have been harder to capture,” he says, almost casually, and it _rankles_. Inuyasha keeps the snarl on his face, and glowers. “But guess _half-breeds_ really are inferior, huh?”

Inuyasha curls his hands together, glares as hard as he can. Snaps: “How about you unchain me and I’ll show you _inferior_?!”

The human smiles blankly- doesn’t look away from Miroku, and it’s starting to make Inuyasha’s skin itch. Starting to make every hair on his body stand on an end.

“What do you want?” Miroku asks, and his voice is even, _calm_. He’s barely sitting up, elbows against the ground, and his face is pale, except for that smear of red-brown and the colour of his eyes, bright in his face.

The human shrugs- steps forward, easy and confident, like he’s _in control_. Something about him sets off every alarm bell in Inuyasha’s head- sets a fire curling in his gut, all fury and hate, simmering away inside of him.

“You’re friends with this mistake, aren’t you?”

Inuyasha snaps a hand forward; the chain sings, and the human’s mouth twists in a smile, amused- Inuyasha snarls, soft and quiet, and looks at the way Miroku’s voice hasn’t even _twitched_.

“Yes,” he says, still in that _tone_. “and I’d prefer it if you stopped talking about him _like that_.”

There it is- right beneath his words is a tight, controlled anger, and it makes a part of Inuyasha relax- it’s the part of him that’s still just a brat, that’s still afraid of rejection, and he _hates_ that it’s still getting knotted up in him, especially at a time like _this_.

The human smiles- it’s a flat expand of teeth, mocking and victorious, like he’s won _something_. Inuyasha doesn’t know what. Doesn’t know what the fuck he’s thinking- just know that he wants to knock that smile of his face, wants to rip it off him.

It makes his skin itch. Makes his blood howl.

“You’re a pretty boy, you know that?”

Inuyasha’s straightens. Eyes wide.

Heart tripping in his chest.

 _No_ , he thinks, staring at Miroku’s face- at the way it hasn’t twitched an inch, and how did he miss this- how did he not realise this.

This isn’t something as simple as a beat down. Isn’t anything as simple as pain and blood.

Inuyasha’s ears are ringing.

Miroku tilts his head- tilts it in a _very_ specific way, that bares his neck and the line of his shoulder, and Inuyasha stares, blank, and doesn’t _understand_.

Miroku is smiling.

“Don’t lay a hand on him, and I’ll be as accommodating as possible,” he says, and Inuyasha is _lost_ \- he’s missed something, missed a step, and he’s faltering, stepping on nothing-

He doesn’t-

“Miroku-!” he manages, and reaches- reaches till the chain is pressing so hard against his skin it _hurts_. “What the fuck- what are you _doing_!”

Miroku doesn’t look at him- neither does the human.

It’s like he isn’t there at all.

The human spreads his hands- he’s still smiling, smug as can be, and Inuyasha _hates_ him, sudden and bright, and it sends him shaking.

His throat is tight.

He can taste fear in his mouth.

“Deal.”

“No,” Inuyasha spits. “No, _no_ , Miroku don’t you- don’t you fucking _dare_ , Miroku-!” he throws himself forward, pressure against his wrist and his throat, and he’s _yelling_ , suddenly and loudly. Screaming.

“Don’t you fucking- don’t lay a _hand_ on him, you hear me?! Don’t fucking touch him!”

The human does look at him, then- disdain in his eyes, annoyance flickering in his expression. “Can I at least _gag_ him?” he asks, tone dry, and Inuyasha _howls_ \- digs his feet in and continues reaching, reaching, because if he can just get _free_ -

And then a hand slams him back, and he chokes on blood and air, and he wheezes- his head is spinning and his ears are rushing, and he can’t-

Miroku- fear on his face- swims through his mind.

“Miroku-” he croaks, coughing and a hand curves around his throat, presses him against the wall.

“ _Inuyasha_ -” Miroku says, voice calm and even and only just touched with worry. “-calm down. Breathe. It’s okay.”

Is it?

Inuyasha blinks his vision clear, fights his breathing under control- his ribs are pounding with pain, and his head is screaming, but the room fades back into view, and he can breathe again.

“Open your mouth,” someone says, right at his ear, and Inuyasha blinks- remembers, then, where he is, as suddenly as it had slipped his mind, and he clenches his teeth together, glares.

The man holding him against the wall rolls his eyes- it’s another human, stronger, bigger, and in a blink there’s two hands at the sides of his mouth, pressing in against his mouth, and-

his mouth pops open, pain flaring at his nerves, and there’s a piece of thick cloth shoved inside.

He gags.

Rears back, arching up on his toes, and the man snorts, steps away- the gag is in deep, and for a second, he’s just about to spit it out, when the man steps back in, and binds _another_ piece of cloth over his mouth.

It doesn’t seem to matter if he struggles- the man pulls him around like he’s nothing, and it _stings_ \- burns, because right now, in the moonlight, he _is_ nothing.

He’s worthless like this.

“There,” the man says, and wipes his hands on his pants. “Gagged. Are we gonna get a show or _what_ , boss?”

The first human- the _boss_ \- smirks. At some point he’s taken off his pants, and Inuyasha can see his cock, half-hard already, and it makes nausea swim in his gut.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

He turns to Miroku.

Miroku who’s still half-sitting on the ground, mouth thin and face pale, whose eyes are barely blank, and Inuyasha’s guts twists in on itself, his chest caving in.

There’s fear, barely hidden in Miroku’s eyes.

“Are we going to get a _show_ , little monk?” the boss asks, and Miroku winces- Inuyasha snarls, and it’s not much more than a barely there note, because he’s chained and muzzled, and he’s _useless_.

“Of course,” Miroku says, voice tight, and he pushes himself up on his knees- nearly topples, but he manages to right himself, face white with pain.

“Not that I can undress myself, _sama_.”

Formal- _polite_ \- Inuyasha bites down on the cloth, squeezes his eyes shut. He tastes bile and hatred, and he’s _shaking_ , chains clattering together, and this is _his fault_.

The boss laughs- Inuyasha pops his eyes back open to see him approach Miroku, and for the first time, Inuyasha realises there’s other humans gathered at the edges of the room; all men, watching with thinly veiled glee, and Inuyasha is choking on vomit, shaking so hard he can feel his bones shuddering.

The boss crouches before Miroku- reaches out to push his rope aside, and Inuyasha can _see_ the moment he touches bare flesh-

Miroku goes stock still, eyes fever-bright, and their eyes meet.

Fear. Determination.

Miroku looks away.

“Perhaps it would be easier to simply remove it, don’t you think so, monk _-chan_?” the boss teases, sliding his hand all the way into the rope, over Miroku’s thigh- Inuyasha can see the way his throat bobs, can see the way he straightens himself, sets his spine straight.

Miroku smiles. It burns on his face.

“If you say so, _sama_.”

There no communication- no back and forth; instead the man from before steps forward, draws a knife, and cuts Miroku’s rope clean off him.

Miroku’s eyes shuts. Stays like that, as the man removes them, hands lingering on Miroku’s shoulders, his chest- strays over his nipples, and Inuyasha wants to cry, suddenly, because this is _his fault_ , but it’s Miroku who’s _suffering_.

“Aren’t you a pretty sight, little monk?” the boss says, voice hoarse, and his cock is hard, now- Inuyasha can hear him stroke himself, the soft slide of flesh against flesh, and Miroku opens his eyes, looks straight at him.

Doesn’t say anything, for once.

He’s naked- almost completely so, and the only thing he’s wearing is his gloves and the ropes, still bound so tight around them. Inuyasha can see his rips, just barely; can see the scars along his skin, can see some almost healed bruises, and it’s not the first time Inuyasha’s seen Miroku naked- far from it.

It’s just the first time he’s seen him like _this_.

Someone whistles- Miroku’s face twitches, something pained flashing across it, and the boss laughs too, and soon they’re all hollering, hooting- Inuyasha presses his temple against his wrist, tries to find Miroku’s eyes, but he’s not looking.

Inuyasha feels lost. Truly, and honestly, _lost_.

“Enough,” the boss says, finally- he’s chuckling, obviously in good humour, and the room quiets slowly. He’s smiling, wide and amused. “Can’t take _all_ night, can we?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and the boss laughs again, but doesn’t let the atmosphere derail again- instead he stands up, steps even closer. Stills, when his boots are nearly touching Miroku’s knees.

“Spread them,” he says.

Miroku’s face flickers- there’s a moment where Inuyasha thinks he’ll fight back. A moment where he thinks Miroku will snap, will rail- but it passes as quickly as it comes, and Miroku sighs, and spreads his legs wide.

The boss sighs. “And aren’t you _pretty_.”

He crouches down again; reaches out to grip Miroku by the chin, tilts his head up- kisses him, then, and it’s all mouth and tongue, hard and slow, and Inuyasha wants to look away, but he _can’t_.

The boss moans- his cock is erect and flushed, and Miroku is blinking, rabbit quick.

Miroku is kissing back.

Not enthusiastic, but he is- he’s got his mouth open and his legs spread, and he’s kissing the human back, fingers curled into his palm, and he looks _sad_.

It’s hard to explain- Inuyasha knows Miroku isn’t doing this because he wants to. He knows this must _hurt_ , in ways he cannot grasp- but it is something different to see it, to see the way such a simple thing as a _kiss_ , is tearing Miroku apart right before his eyes.

And then the boss reaches down, and finds Miroku’s cock.

Miroku startles- flinches, almost, as the human strokes his cock, quick and hard, and his face twists- flickers. The boss draws back from the kiss; leaves a thread of salvia between them.

“I had you pegged as a whore,” he says, conservationally- like this is something he can _say_ , and Inuyasha flinches, rage bubbling up from where it’s been simmering in his gut, roaring in his ear again.

He struggles in his chains, but he is _tired_ , and in pain, and his hair is black instead of white, and he is _useless_.

 _Miroku_ , he wants to say. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry_.

“Just had that _look_ , didn’t you- like you’re waiting for something to take you, fuck you. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

The boss is still stroking Miroku, isn’t letting up- Miroku’s eyes are fluttering, and he’s panting, squirming slightly. and he looks _repulsed_. Looks like he wants nothing more than to curl up somewhere, and never, ever, be touched again.

The boss does something- squeezes, maybe, because Miroku _gasps_ , head throwing back, eyes wide. His hip buck.

“Answer me,” the boss said, and he’s voice is thin- he’s panting, too, and Inuyasha can still see his cock, hard and leaking. “ _Answer me_ , whore.”

He repeats the gesture- Miroku’s throat is pale and white, and he’s gasping out: “ _ah_ , y-yes, yes, _sama_.”

Inuyasha squeezes his eyes shut. Wants to cry.

Because of course. _Of course_.

Miroku lies so easy, and sometimes Inuyasha _forgets_ \- forgets that most of what Miroku is is a pretty lie, a false mask, worn so long the edges has melted into who Miroku is, really, and _of course_ Miroku hasn’t slept with anyone before. Of course.

 _Of course_.

The boss laughs, and Inuyasha opens his eyes. He’s leaning in, pressing his face against Miroku’s neck, kissing at his skin, biting at the curves there. Miroku moans, eyes fluttering, and his mouth is pink.

“Beg me,” the boss says, and thumbs the head of Miroku’s cock- smearing white across it, and Inuyasha hates how easily he finds his eyes there, finds himself _watching_.

“Beg me to _fuck you_ , whore.”

Miroku _sobs_.

His whole body shudders and twitches, and he’s not crying, but Inuyasha can see the pain, splayed so clear across his face, and Inuyasha wants to sob too- wants to heave and vomit and hold Miroku close, because-

“ _Beg_ ,” the boss stresses, and _bites_ , teeth splitting skin and Miroku chokes on another sob, eyes going wide and bright and purple-pale.

“ _No_ ,” Miroku chokes, small and barely there. “ _No_ , no-”

The boss curls his hand around Miroku’s cock, and squeezes, and Miroku whines. Arches his back.

“N _nn_ o-”

The boss leans back- there’s blood smeared across his face, smeared across Miroku’s neek, and he sighs.

“Kill the mutt.”

Inuyasha jerks- so does Miroku, who twists up so quickly it must leave him spinning; his lips are shiny and bruised, and his eyes are wide and glazed, and still he meets Inuyasha’s eyes.

“No!” he shouts, and throws himself forward- throws himself into the boss, and there’s a rustle of cloth and suddenly-

the boss goes “oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Miroku says, voice strained and hasty and tight. His hands are pressed into the boss’ crotch, and Inuyasha _knows_ what he’s doing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- please, please, _sama_ , fuck me. I beg of you.”

The boss moans, tilts his head back- his eyes are closed, and Miroku is clumsily stroking at his cock with both hands.

“ _Sama_ ,” Miroku says. “please.”

“Hhh-” the boss peels an eye open, looks over Inuyasha. “- _hh_ , fine. Leave the mutt alone, for now.”

Inuyasha had barely noticed the tension that had taken ahold of him, but now he notices it as it leaves- as the sudden knot of fear fades back into the background noise of _myfault_ that’s been hammering in his chest since this nightmare started.

He won’t die yet. He can still fix this- they just have to wait till dawn.

He meets Miroku’s eyes, just briefly. There’s shame, on his face, twisted high in his cheek, and Inuyasha wishes he could speak- wishes he could apologize, wishes he wasn’t so useless, so- worthless.

Wishes he could kill every man in this room, and hold Miroku close.

“Back,” the boss says, and Miroku’s eyes are gone, and Inuyasha is back to looking, to watching, because that is all he can do. “Spread your legs again, whore.”

Miroku complies. Crawls back a bit, and spreads his legs wide again, and Inuyasha can see his cock, hard and leaking.

Miroku’s face is pale.

The boss sits up; takes off his short, and tosses it aside, and he strokes his cock twice, thumbing at the head.

He heaves himself up on his knees- reaches out to grasp Miroku by his thighs, and _drags_ him close, and Miroku’s face flashes to sheer, animalistic, _panic_.

“Beg,” the boss says.

“ _A_ h-” Miroku swallows. His chest is heaving and his arms are tight to his chest, and he looks so _scared_ \- almost without thought, Miroku seeks out Inuyasha’s eyes.

They hold.

“P- _please_. Fuck me, _sama_.”

His cheeks flushes.

And without warning, the boss rams into him.

Miroku _howls_ \- his eyes blows wide and his face goes blank, and he _screams_ ; his whole body twitches and hitches on itself, and Inuyasha throws himself forward, panic bursting into his chest- Miroku screams and the boss grunts, adjusts himself, and rams into Miroku’s hole again.

Miroku chokes- his arms twitches on his chest, fingers curling, and he’s gasping for air, and Inuyasha _can’t help_ \- he’s trying and he’s _trying_ , but there’s blood in his mouth and a roaring in his head, and he can’t _breathe_ -

A hand pushes him back, but he doesn’t- he _needs to help_ -

The boss is keeping Miroku’s legs spread, fingers digging into his flesh to keep his asscheeks spread too; he’s thrusting into Miroku like it is nothing, and he’s moaning, eyes closed- Inuyasha can see his lips move, but he can’t hear what he’s saying, not above the din of Miroku screaming.

 _so tight_ , he thinks the boss is saying. _so tight for me._

Inuyasha is crying.

Tears hot and painful on his cheeks, and Miroku’s eyes roll back in his head, expect he keeps on twitching, keeps on _moving_ \- the screaming is tapering off, is fading into nothing, but he’s still making noises-

choked off little gasps. Pained groans.

The boss curls over Miroku’s chest, stills- he moans, and shakes, and Inuyasha blinks away the tears, thinks he must be cuming.

It’ll be over soon, then. It’ll be over.

It’ll be over.

Except the boss doesn’t pull out- instead he stays, rocking gently into Miroku, and there’s blood, shiny and wet pooling out between them, and Inuyasha’s head is _spinning_.

“So wonderful,” the boss is saying, hushed. “So wonderful. Wasn’t it wonderful, little monk?”

He’s got his palm against Miroku’s cheek, curved gently like, and Inuyasha wants to barf- wants to tear off his hand, and wants to tear off his dick. Wants to _ruin_ this man, more than he wants to kill him.

Miroku shudders.

Comes to.

“Hello little monk,” the boss says. Is still rocking into Miroku, like he’s still hard- like this isn’t _over_. “Beg for me.”

Miroku sobs.

There’s tears on his face already, and there’s something deeply _torn_ there, too- he looks broken, pinned beneath the human’s body.

“Pl-pl-” Miroku tries, but his voice is barely there. “ _Ple-plea-_ ”

The boss laughs- leans in to kiss Miroku, gentle, soft. Miroku shudders with sobs. Doesn’t kiss back.

“Come now,” the boss says, between kisses. “Come now, little monk, or I shall kill the mutt- perhaps I will fuck him, as he dies. Perhaps I will have my _men_ fuck him.”

Miroku cries- cries hard and brokenly, and he shakes his head. Tries, _tries_ , to kiss the boss back, but he seems barely there, seems loss and out of touch.

The boss sighs.

Pulls out. And slams back in.

Miroku’s eyes pop wide, and his whole body _heaves_ \- he claws at his chest, and chokes on a scream, and the boss falls into gentle rocking motions.

“ _Beg_ , you fucking whore.”

Miroku forces out a noise- strangled and wrapped in itself, and he is shivering. “Pl _-ple-please-_ ” and he chokes on his own words, coughs, turns his head away- keeps on coughing, and gasping and shaking.

The boss sighs. “Guess that’s all I’ll get, huh?”

And instead of pulling out- instead of going back to thrusting inside of Miroku, he reaches out; curls his hand around Miroku’s limp cock.

Starts stroking.

Miroku twitches- he makes a pathetic noise, a dying noise, and he’s still crying- is still coughing. Is simply lying there, breathing, as the boss strokes him gently and clean.

The boss strokes him, as he rocks inside of him- gentle and almost kind, and Miroku is fighting, then, to keep the noises inside. Keeps on biting his teeth together, shivering, as he tries to get himself under control.

“Do you want me?” the boss asks, sudden. Miroku isn’t hard, not yet, but his cock is slick with pre-cum. “Do you _want_ me to fuck you, little monk?”

It is not a true question.

Miroku whines- breathing hard again, and the boss is picking up the pace of his rocking- still gentle, still slow, but faster, slicker. Blood burns red where they’re connected.

“ _Hhh_ -” Miroku breathes. “y-y- _yes_.”

It is not pleasure, in Miroku’s voice. It’s something breathless, something hurt and taunt, and Inuyasha cannot do anything.

Nothing.

“Say it,” the boss says, voice soft, a breath. He must be hard again.

Miroku twists his head up along the floor; his hair is messy and spread out, and there’s blood in the strands, red among black- his face is washed out and pale, and his thighs are crimson.

“I- I _w-w_ ant- _hhh_ \- y-y _ou_.”

The boss strokes Miroku one last time, and he’s half-hard, at least, straining slightly, and he’s panting- the boss presses himself flush with Miroku, adjusts the legs spread around him, and curls his fingers at the dib between Miroku’s thigh and crotch.

And he starts thrusting again.

It’s not ruthless, this time- perhaps that is worse. It seems almost gentle, slow, and Miroku arches his back, makes hard little noises, mouth an open circle. He’s pretty, somehow, and Inuyasha squeezes his eyes shut, because that- that isn’t for _here_.

Not now.

Miroku cries out, and Inuyasha snaps his eyes back open- strains forward, but gentler this time, because that wasn’t _pain_ , not exactly.

Maybe it was pleasure.

The boss is thrusting slowly into him, and Miroku is moaning, now- genuinely moaning, and Inuyasha knows something must be different. Doesn’t know quite what.

But Miroku is hard again, and he’s arching into it, making those noises again and again- the boss is saying something, and Inuyasha can barely understand it, because his ears are rushing and his head is spinning, and he can’t look away from the way Miroku is arching off the ground, his skin slick with sweat and pain and pleasure.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, distantly.

“Please-” Miroku says. “Please, _please, please-_ ”

The boss pulls out- his cock is red with blood- and slams back in, and Miroku twists, shouts- shakes as he cums, spine curving as his toes digs into the mat.

Inuyasha swallows around the gag.

And dawn breaks.

It’s a sudden thing. Like the sun rising, inside of him, and Inuyasha is not quite aware of the way his hair is turning white or the way he can suddenly _think_ \- he is aware of the power, rushing up to meet him, and Inuyasha stares at the blood on the floor and the pain-pleasure on Miroku’s face, and he doesn’t think.

The chains break.

He must have made a sound- the gag is out, red and wet, and he’s upon the boss in the blink of an eye; claws digging into his neck, and-

Miroku’s eyes finds him.

-Inuyasha snaps the boss’ neck in a fluid twist.

Someone screams- someone yells. Inuyasha digs his claws in deeper, and pulls, gently, till the human is free of Miroku, and then he drags him up- scans the room- and throws the body into the fray.

“I’m sorry,” he says, to Miroku, who's shaking and shuddering in the aftermath. “Fuck, Miroku- _I’m sorry_.”

Maybe Miroku doesn’t hear him- his eyes are glazed and wet and _lost_ , but Inuyasha has to say it. Has to say it now, as soon as possible, before he kills every last human here. Before he has to think again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, one last time, and throws himself into the mayhem.


End file.
